I feel strangely guilty. Like I am cheating on a long-time, innocent partner. I tell myself I'm just intoxicated by the smell of the fermenting yeast, mesmerized by the rising of the dough, and that I need the kneading it calls for. The smell of the French Levain almost ready to come out of the oven wafts and dances through my kitchen and nearly knocks me over. It wakes me up from my love affair just in time to say: "Bread! You dirty scoundrel!"That's the terrible thing about being in love with Pastry. I was so sure that cakes... wedding cakes, especially.... were my true confection obsession. But since getting into breads, my monogomy with Cake has fallen into question. Nobody told me this experience would be so similar in nature to a Soap Opera.
Alas, I will have to learn how to pull the strings of my heart (and the work of my Pastry Chef hands) in multiple directions... Bread, Cake, Bread, Cake... Regardless: It's good to be in love. Even if it's confusing sometimes.
Email me if you want some fresh bread delivered to your Bay Area doorstep!
